No Place Like Home

If one could tour my place of birth They would notice a place where time stood still Then they would see a place of humble simplicity

If one could spend one night in the house where I was born No hot water or bathroom, but cold night visits to the outhouse Then they would be more grateful, and acquire a taste for more humility

If one could roam the village where I grew up A place where lighting bugs enjoyed the nights Then they would walk on dusty grounds of stability

If one could only observe where I had to play They would see no parks or play grounds for the poor Then they would pause and share in their kids’ activity

If one could hear the soothing sounds that I heard by day and by night The melody of crickets late at night, and roosters crowing early mornings. Then they would experience far less stress, and have a chance with longevity

If one could get to know the neighbors I knew The dear people I honored, trusted, and respected Then they would understand the true meaning of civility

If one could care nearly as much as they People who took the time to love and share Then they too would love with all their ability.

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